The Problem With Paper Airplanes
by amillionsmiles
Summary: Kai sends her paper airplanes, Jinora resists but keeps them anyways, and it's all cute until they get caught. / Kai&Jinora, oneshot.


**A/N: **These two have taken my writer's engine and shoved it full of clouds so that the only thing I can spit out is fluff, fluff, _fluff._

* * *

_i._

The first one nearly hits her in the face.

Jinora is sitting at her desk, the window cracked open to let in the breeze, when something winged whistles by her ear. She looks behind her in time to see the nose of a paper airplane crumple as it hits the wall.

"Psst!" Kai's face swings into view, upside down.

Jinora twitches, startled. "Kai, what are you doing? You're supposed to be in meditation practice."

Kai's mouth puckers into a pout. His head disappears, briefly, before he vaults himself—off the roof, Jinora suspects—onto the ledge outside her window, squatting with his staff in hand. "I snuck away," he shrugs. He looks at her from under the fringe of his hair. "Besides, you weren't there."

Jinora holds up a scroll. "I'm helping my dad organize things for the next history lesson."

Kai squints at her doubtfully. "Will it be interesting?"

"Depends on what you consider interesting."

"Well…" Kai reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "'interesting' would be you teaching me how to make an air scooter in the courtyard…" he trails off hopefully.

Jinora smiles gently. "Sorry, Kai, but I can't right now."

Kai's shoulders slump, but he grins at her good-naturedly as he prepares to fly away. "I guess I should go. Your dad has probably noticed I'm missing by now."

Jinora waves goodbye. As Kai's figure fades from view, she walks over to where the paper airplane has landed and picks it up, smoothing out its bent figure before setting it on her desk.

_ii._

The second one loops lazily through the air, settling in Jinora's lap.

She cracks an eye open to inspect it. This airplane has a different design from the first, more top-heavy and less streamlined. Through the window, she catches Kai mouthing something and making a motion with his hands.

Jinora unfolds the paper. Scribbled on it is a charcoal drawing of a baby bison, and Kai's thumb jerks excitedly over his shoulder, his eyebrows raising in an invitation.

Jinora points to the hourglass she has set beside her, the sand still trickling through, and shakes her head.

Kai huffs.

_iii._

Kai's efforts continue. His planes range from small to large, simple to more elaborate. On each of them, he leaves pictures, depictions of that day's training session: Daw falling off the practice poles, Bumi leading the morning's march, Yung making it through the obstacle course. Jinora considers making them into a mobile, but for the time being keeps them amassed in a corner of her room.

That afternoon, Tenzin asks her opinion on the training exercises he has decided on for tomorrow's lessons. Jinora revels in the opportunity to share her thoughts and make use of her expertise, and so what if Ikki and Meelo complain that Tenzin's willingness to incorporate her ideas just indulges her "bossy streak?" She's the oldest, so she gets certain rights.

But those rights extend little beyond the classroom, and as Kai's paper airplane soars through the window in the middle of her father's monologue, Jinora thinks she can see them vanishing before her eyes.

This one has been constructed in the form of a glider. Jinora has little time to admire its handiwork before Tenzin's gaze snaps around the room.

"What was that?"

"Um, nothing, Dad," Jinora says, inching slightly to the right in the hopes she can kick the offending object out of sight.

But her father is an airbending master attuned to his surroundings. He zeroes in on the glider, scooping it up and examining it from all angles. "Where did this come from?"

"I, uh…I've been teaching myself to make them," Jinora tries helplessly. "The wind must have knocked it away from where I kept the others, see?" She indicates her collection on the other side of the room.

"Huh," Tenzin says. "It's very detailed, Jinora. How did you do this exactly—" Before Jinora can react, Tenzin starts to unfold the plane in an effort to better understand its workings.

And freezes. Jinora recognizes the telltale tic at his temple and internally groans.

"Jinora," Tenzin says carefully, "what is this?"

He shows her the paper. Kai's usual charcoal drawing has been spiced up, this time, by a splash of color—in the form of Tenzin, red-faced and hollering in a corner, while a collection of other figures perform various airbending forms.

Jinora makes a mental note to tell Kai that he has _terrible_ timing.

"I…uh…it's…" Jinora winces, wishing she were a better liar. Out of the corner of her eye, she witnesses Kai's head peeping through the window—upside down as always.

Seriously, how does he not get dizzy?

Hurriedly, she snaps her attention back to her father, determined not to give away more than she already has, but Tenzin has already followed her gaze. He runs to the window just as Kai takes off, robes whipping behind him.

"_Kai, you get back here or so help me!"_

_iv._

The next time Kai arrives, Jinora is ready.

As soon as his airplane hits the floor, she sends back one of her own. It zips through the window faster than she expected, but she smiles as a hand shoots out and snatches it out of the air.

Jinora hears Kai whoop and then she is jumping through the window, glider snapping open above her as the two of them take off, twin birds soaring.

Below them, her paper airplane with its two words drifts slowly toward the ground.

_Let's go._


End file.
